Happy Camping Guide: Sleeping

In a few weeks, I'll be accompanying my Cub scouts on a weekend camping trip. I sat down this morning to jot down a few tips for the families in our group who may not be experienced campers, and decided it was a Noteworthy topic. So over the next few posts, I'll be sharing tips on how to camp without roughing it.

Tents

Tents have come a long way from when I was a little girl, camped out in our musty-smelling Coleman model, made of heavy canvas stretched over a metal frame. It must have weighed a ton. It wasn't waterproof, either, which was a problem if you lived on the east coast. I can still hear my father barking, "NOBODY TOUCHES THE WALLS" as we huddled together in the middle and watched raindrops beading on the exterior, threatening to penetrate.

I'm a fair-weather camper today, and I keep a close eye on the weather before loading the van. We've had our spirits dampened occasionally, but have always managed to sleep dry and mildew-free. Both tents we've had in our ten-year family camping career have been Coleman's, which is somewhere in the middle of the quality/price spectrum between Eureka and the Target/Wal-mart store brands, Greatland and Ozark Trail. You can almost always find a deal on a new tent online. Remember that the capacity estimate is based on a can of sardines. If you want to move around your tent in comfort, you'll need to pad it by a couple of bodies. Personally, I like to be able to stand up in my tent. Ours is an 8-person, three-room tent, no longer in production, but along the lines of the one pictured below. You'll want at least one good lantern, but the magnetic clamp-on night light is handy to have, and extra stakes, a mallet and a whisk broom are essential. I am a lunatic about dirt in the tent, barking at the kids in the same tone as my father with the rain, "NOBODY WEARS SHOES IN THE TENT!"



Any tent can be upgraded with a five dollar bottle of seam sealant. A new tent should come with a rainfly and ground cloth (footprint), but I recommend buying an extra tarp to fold up and tuck (completely) under the floor. Every layer of insulation you can put between your body and the cold, hard ground is going to keep you that much warmer and drier at night.

Bedding

Someday I'm going to get into backpacking and go tripping down the Appalachian Trail with gear so ultralight and high-tech, it will have to be weighted down at night just to stay earthbound. In the meantime, I am a car camper, the kind who backs the van up to the site, rolls out an eight-person tent, and looks for a place to plug in the Christmas lights. Because no one has to carry their bedding more than a few feet, we are able to bring many of the comforts of home. Or more precisely, the comforters of home. We have two inflatable air mattresses. The one Patrick and I sleep on is an Aerobed, and it is as comfortable as our bed at home. The only problem is, it has to be plugged in to inflate, unlike the kids' bed, which has a battery-powered pump. It's not a problem at state parks with hookups, but for elsewhere, I need to pick up a power adapter. Also, "NOBODY BOUNCES ON THE AIRBEDS!"



Remember what I said about insulation between you and the cold, hard ground? Air counts as insulation. So the elevation of the air mattresses really ups the comfort level. Placing an old blanket or sleeping bag under the mattress will improve it even more. Also, never wear your day clothes to bed, especially your socks. Even a little lingering perspiration will make you cold and clammy at night. I make everyone change into synthetic long underwear and fresh socks. More on clothing to come, but in general, COTTON=BAD.

If you have sleeping bags, great. But if you're starting from scratch, and are on a budget, I'd say spend the money on air mattresses, and just bring your duvets, comforters and pillows from home. Just give it all a good shake when you get back, and of course NOBODY WEARS SHOES IN THE TENT, so the dirt should be minimal. Of course, if you plan to camp in less than fair weather, you'll want to look into sleeping bags with the appropriate temperature ratings. My eldest son has one for Boy Scouts that cost a fortune and is rated for nights on Pluto. But Patrick and I stay pretty toasty under our feather duvet. It's getting out in the early morning that's the cold part. Which brings me to

Gear For Sissies (Like Me)

There are now portable heaters that are safe for use in enclosed spaces, though I would certainly not leave it on unattended, or while sleeping. But I'd really like to get one for preheating the tent before bed, or getting warm in the morning.

The table, pictured above, is a really cheap contraption of aluminum and plastic that folds flat into its own carrier. But it's nice to have somewhere to sit and play cards or eat cereal inside the tent, and if it lasts four trips, it'll will have been worth the 30 bucks or so I paid for it (with a coupon). When it finally gives out, I'd like to replace it with the sturdier one pictured below.

Finally, you want a place to corral dirty clothes, because clothes get unspeakably filthy in the great outdoors, and spiders love to hide under yesterday's socks. A pop-up hamper contains the laundry, and makes unpacking a little easier when you get home.



Up next: Eating

---

Amazon links are associate links, which means if you buy through that link, I get a small referral fee. You can also find great deals online at Campmor, Dealnews and Overstock with whom I have no affiliation.

this post lives all by itself here

Mont-Tremblant: Return to Wonderland

A few months ago, I was invited to bring my family to Mont-Tremblant, Quebec, for a winter holiday. We live in the southern United States. My three sons get excited when the dog's water dish freezes over. You can't imagine how thrilling it was for the five of us to step off the plane into white, deep, real winter. But you can read all about it here:

Mont-Tremblant: Day One
Mont-Tremblant: Day Two
Mont-Tremblant: Day Three, Part I
Mont-Tremblant: Day Three, Part II
Video: Tubing on Day Three
Video: Sled Dogs on Day Three
Round Up: If You Go

this post lives all by itself here

WeTube.

this post lives all by itself here

Mont-Tremblant: If You Go

Tourisme Mont-Tremblant is your first stop. Here is where you can get information on getting to Mont-Tremblant, where to stay, and what to do. And there is a lot to do.

Under Activities and Attractions, you can choose a la carte from a wide array. Pricing information is here as well. Depending on how much skiing you want to do, and how much equipment you need to rent, I would plan on about $100 a day, per person for the level of activity we did. Dogsledding will put you over, tubing is well under. Outdoor skating is next to nothing. The snow, tons and tons of glorious snow, is included with your airfare. My boys would probably have been thrilled to do nothing but roll in it for three days. If you stay on the resort proper, there are numerous other free activities, like curling, hockey, giant inflatables and sliding.

As I said earlier, I think the cost is comparable to Disney World or other major theme park/attraction. As with Disney, you have the choice to stay on or off the resort. There are accomodations at every level, many with kitchens. We stayed on-site, at the Fairmont Tremblant, in adjoining rooms with a kitchen and living room. It was definitely at the luxury end of the scale. The outdoor pools, steaming hot and surrounded by snow, were an activity in themselves. The service was impeccable. I was hardly travelling undercover, but other guests seemed to be getting the same star treatment.

But of course, the hotel, however fabulous, was not the main attraction. Mont-Tremblant is. As you can see from our photographs, the resort is a pedestrian-only storybook village. A story in which you can spend a lot of money. There is nothing chintzy here. The apparel and gear shops are top of the line: Roots, Columbia, Helly Hansen. Souvenirs are also upscale and tasteful. As for food: continental, international, pub—you crave it, they seem to have it. There is also a general store on site if you don't want to pay $4.00 CDN for a single serve box of Rice Krispies and a half-pint of milk at the hotel.

There is a lively nightclub scene that I can't tell you a thing about. But I'd be happy to investigate it for you thoroughly on a separate, no-kids, moms-getaway with my sister in the future (HINT HINT).

You'll want to make the Activity Centre at Place-Bernard in the pedestrian village one of your very first stops, after checking in. This is where the buffet of winter fun begins. Brochures and wall displays make it very easy to see what recreational opportunities are available and at what price. From here, you can book the spa, the dogsledding (ours was "Mountain Adventure"), the tubing and a bunch of other things we never got to (Snowmobiling, anyone? Ziplining?). Everything but the skiing. Activity Centre staff were very helpful with giving directions and answering questions.

Okay, the skiing. I've never skiied out west, so I don't have a basis for comparison as to elevation, trails, etc. But it's hard to imagine a better set up than Mont-Tremblant for a family of beginners with three young kids. The place is extremely family friendly. My four year old said his favorite thing on our ski day was the day care (thank you, Annie! Vous-etes tres gentil!) Sixty dollars CDN for an afternoon. I paid for it out of pocket and was happy to. We all had a much better time for it. As well as enjoying the spacious, bright playroom, he and his international playmates went outside for playtime in the snow. He gave two thumbs up to the "ice slide."

We rented all our equipment from the resort. Instruction is always worth the time and expense, in my experience, though if it had been on our dime, we'd have gone for group rather than private lessons. A morning of instruction was plenty to school us in the basics. Coming down Nansen Bas together is something our family will never forget.

If you look at the trail map, you can see that Tremblant is clearly not just for beginners. But I think their greatest success could be as kind of winter "dude-ranch" for snow-deprived southern families like ourselves. I mean, in three and a half days, we DID winter. In style. I don't know if I was able to convey adequately to our hosts what a thrill the snow was for us. And they are set up uniquely to let visitors get the maximum possible enjoyment out of it. Their season runs from November through March.

And no disrespect to Disney World, or Paradise Island, or cruises, or any other upscale family resort/destination (anybody needs a resort blogger-in-residence, I'm your gal— Mickey, CALL ME), but Tremblant has something different. As in, vive la difference. It wasn't just an immersion in a different climate; it was an immersion in a different culture and language. My boys got to practice their bonjours et mercis. We got to sample french cuisine. We learned about french Canadian culture. We were there less than four days, yet we felt like we'd really gone somewhere.

It wasn't just a good vacation. It was a bon voyage.

I feel like for credibility's sake, I should tell you something sucked, but nothing did. We didn't care much for lunch in the very crowded summit cafeteria Grand Manitou, but it was exactly like the lunchtime scene at the only other ski resort I've ever visited. That's ski resort cafeteria lunch as far as I'm concerned. We weren't up there for the french fries.

Our favorite meal, far and away, was at Hotel du Lac. Dinners at Grand Lodge and Fairmont's Windingo were not as excellent from first course to last, but they each had their gems. Entrees were all in the $40-$55 CDN range. As I said in an earlier post, if it were all our tab, no way would we have dined that extravagantly every night. A dinner at Hotel du Lac and breakfast at Catherine's Creperie would have been plenty gourmet indulgence for a three-night stay. Rounded out, of course, by maple snow taffy and the occasional croissant or eclair from the boulangerie.

I guess the only hesitation I have at all is in knowing that not everyone can afford a vacation like this, especially now. Even though our airfare, lodging, food and activities were sponsored, we still spent a lot (for us) on incidentals and outdoor gear. But if a special destination is in your budget (or grandma and grandpa's), I think you'll get a lot a value for your money from this one. It seems unbelievable that we were there just four days, considering how much we experienced.

I'm still sorting through photographs. I'll be uploading them to my Notes on Ice flickr set and adding captions where appropriate.

In the meantime, I'll be launching a new series for this blog tomorrow. So check back!

C'est tout.

this post lives all by itself here

Mont-Tremblant: Day 3, Part Deux

Sitting in Mont-Tremblant's tiny airport, an hour and a half after our flight was due to leave, and it just now occurred to me that they are not letting us go until I finish blogging about Day Three. I'm actually happy to stay here a while— it's a cozy building of hewn logs, where the staff are convivial and relaxed with us and each other, like a hybrid episode of Northern Exposure and Wings. Except the Canadian customs people, who are friendly, but anything but relaxed. America, if you are concerned about terrorists or drugs coming into your country through small, remote Canadian airports like this one, worry no more. I didn't mind ditching the toenail clippers, but for a terrible moment, I thought we were going to be asked to leave the Harry Potter wand from FAO Schwartz.

Anyway, every hour here is an hour shaved from our long layover in Newark, which suits us fine. I'm sitting near a large picture window overlooking a snow-covered parking lot at the edge of a wood, soaking up the last of it. I'm surprised at how much I've loved the snow this week. By the time I left Newfoundland for the U.S., I was a young adult, and the wonder of winter had given away to the hassle of it. I didn't think I missed it, even at Christmas. Given a choice, a snow holiday would have never made my top ten, or even top twenty, family vacation themes. This holiday has changed all that. I've been taken back to Wonderland.

After dogsledding yesterday morning, we returned to the resort to eat lunch at the Creperie Catherine. I've got to tell you, the food here can be pricey, like resort food anywhere. But it's been consistently delectable, and gorgeously presented. Also, the portions are extremely generous. Our suite had a kitchen, though, and if we were being more budget conscious, I think I'd have planned just one or two really special meals out and served up cereal and sandwiches from our room. All our evening meals were extravagant, four and five course affairs. Scrumptious, but time consuming and waist-expanding. It would be hard to choose which to cut ( (Hotel du Lac is a must), but if the itinerary were all mine, I'd trade in at least one of those feasts for a bowl of soup and an evening skate on the outdoor ice rink. Outdoor ice skating is the only thing I felt I missed.

But that's just being greedy, or so I told myself as I stood on the rink this morning before the skate rental opened, wistfully watching a woman skate with her own pair, trying to estimate the size of her feet, and thinking about offering her twenty dollars to let me borrow them for ten minutes. But it was time to go.

Don't feel bad for me. After our lunch yesterday, we wandered around the resort in search of dessert. I fulfilled a lifelong fantasy by having maple syrup taffy made on the snow. I have wanted to try that ever since I was a little girl and first read about maple sugar time. Aunt Jemima pancake syrup on the snow in our yard never quite worked out. The real thing didn't disappoint. My eight year old, a connoisseur of sweets and a man of few words and spare praise, exclaimed, "I never knew maple syrup could taste like this!" I always hoped it would.

Sugared up, we went to the tubing park, where you can spend the day flying down one of multiple slopes in an inner tube. I had time to try it once, before I was due to leave Patrick and the boys there and head to the spa for the afternoon. How thrilling is tubing? Thrilling enough that I almost cancelled my spa appointment then and there. But I'm so glad I didn't.

Spa Scandanavie is set in the woods by a river, with a series of outdoor hot and cold pools, showers, saunas and solariums. I sampled nearly all, including (extremely briefly) the 32 degree shower with water pumped from the frozen river, before having a massage that left me like a noodle. Meanwhile, Patrick was hurtling down an icy chute in a rubber donut. Which left him like a stiffened piece of rawhide. Guess which one of us needed a shooter of children's ibuprofen to get out of bed this morning?

Dinner was in front of a giant hearth in the Grande Lodge, with Dominic, our trip coordinator. Good wine, delicious food (outstanding vegetables), and great conversation. I hope we didn't bore our host by telling him over and over what he already knows: this is a special place.

And I hope he is happy to see the five of us on his doorstep tonight if our plane doesn't get here soon. I'll bring the wine.

Truly, our time here has been amazing. I have more photos and videos to post in the days to come, people I need to thank, and pointers and links that I hope will get some of you thinking about putting Mont-Tremblant on your own top ten list of places to go. Until then,

au revoir.

P.S. As soon as I typed that, our plane arrived. What did I tell you?

this post lives all by itself here

Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!

this post lives all by itself here

Mont-Tremblant: Day Three

I hardly know where to begin.

Let's start with this.




This morning, we went dogsledding. If you ever happen to find yourself seated next to me at a dinner party, making small talk, consider yourself trumped, unless you are an astronaut. I plan to work it into everyday conversation into perpetuity. If you are in front of me in the supermarket check out line, and you plop your bag of kibble on the conveyer belt, I will say, "Oh! Dog food! Why, that reminds me of the time I went dogsledding!" If we are standing side by side on the soccer field, cheering on our children, I will turn to you and say, "When I went dogsledding, the driver would cheer the dogs on in french."

"Allez! Allez!" I will shout at our children, as you slink away down the sideline.

I don't know that I will ever get over it. The only solution I can think of is for you to come to Mont-Tremblant and go dogsledding yourself. Seriously, add this to your bucket list. There are several dogsledding operations here. Ours was Adventures Banquise, about a 20 minute drive from the ski resort. Cathy met us at the camp, lit a fire in the yurt, and took us around to introduce us to all her beautiful dogs by name. I've spent enough time with dog and horse people to know that a working animal is a happy animal, but Cathy left no room to doubt that her teams are not just well-exercised, but well-loved. After all the sniffing and petting, we boarded two sleds and the dogs were hitched on. I went in one with the two youngest boys, and Patrick and our ten-year-old went in the other. The drivers called out, and we were off, racing through the woods, up and down hills, around trees, and across a lake. Patrick and our big boy each had a turn driving their sled, but my crew was content to stay bundled under our blanket, enjoying the ride. I have video to upload later (the fie transfer speed from our room is killing me softly with its slow— UPDATE: SEE VIDEO ABOVE & NEWEST POST), but I can't give you the cold air blowing on your cheeks, the sideways lurch of the sled as you carve around a spruce tree, or the 180 degree view of the snowy woods. So just go. And then we can talk.

I know, easy for me to say from here. All we have to pay for is about 10,000 dollars worth of incidental room charges. But I've done the math, and I'm pretty sure the cost of a vacation like this is comparable to a trip of the same duration to Disney World. If that happens to be within your reach, I have no hesitation encouraging you to come to Tremblant. And splurge on the dogsledding, even if you have to sacrifice a day of skiing. In three short days, we have had the time of our lives. And I haven't even told you about the spa or tubing or the maple syrup snow taffy.

We head back at lunch time, and I'll have plenty of layover time to wrap it all up. It's past one in the morning, and I've promised the kids we'll be up in time to play in the snow for a few more hours, so I'm going to turn in.

À demain.

this post lives all by itself here

Mont-Tremblant: Day Two

Picture Bill Murray, tied to the mast of a yacht in the movie "What About Bob?" bellowing, "I'M SAILING! I SAIL!" and you have a picture of us, skiing.

It took us all day to get the point where four of us could manage one good run, but my God, no Olympic team was ever more victorious.

All five of us got started with private lessons this morning, but the Littlest Who came to the end of his rope early. When you are just learning to ski, you spend an inordinate amount of time clomping around, as opposed to actually skiing, and it's exhausting. After an hour of snowploughing down the kiddie slope, he was through. Clomping with him to the nearest bathroom, I discovered the resort daycare, and promptly made a reservation for him for the afternoon. It was expensive—$60 for three and half hours— but totally worth it. He later said that daycare was his favorite thing all day.

After our lesson concluded, we took the gondola to the very top of the mountain for lunch. We ate at Grand Manitou, where we helped ourselves, cafeteria-style. On my tray: poutine (french fries with gravy and cheese curds), a box of Smarties (the Canadian version of M&M candies), and a bottle of Molson beer. All pretty awful, but as mandatory as moon pie and a coke would be to Patrick if we were visiting Arkansas after a long absence. The place was packed, but people were cheerful. Everyone was flushed and exhilarated. I assumed it was because it was lunchtime, and we were all still alive. Right below the window where I sat, skiiers and snowboarders were flinging themselves off an icy precipice. I pointed them out to Patrick.

"I bet you see them come out further down the slope a few minutes later, right?" he said, peering through the plate glass.

"I think the bodies are just piling up at the bottom," I answered.

We rode the gondola back down and spent another hour on the kiddie slopes until the clomp-to-coast ratio got tiresome.

"I think we're ready to take a real slope," I ventured. "The worst that can happen is we walk down the mountain."

Actually, what would be worse would be coming down the mountain with an eight-year-old clinging to your thigh, as you snowplough for two. Fortunately, he eventually found his own center of gravity and let go. Both big kids were champions, in fact. As was Patrick, who has never skied either. When we all finally came to the bottom, we high-fived and grinned for a while, and then my husband was chivalrous enough to let me take the last run of the day down by myself. It was beautiful. I wish we had more time. With another day of daycare, I'm sure I could conquer all the beginner runs, and maybe even step it up a notch. But there are other adventures in store. In fact, I'm counting on tomorrow's itinerary to provide me with cocktail party conversation for decades to come.

To my mind, the measure of any really worthwhile vacation is the point at which you start plotting to come back. That moment came for me during our apres ski dip in the pool this afternoon, as I daydreamed about bringing my sister to Tremblant. Just us?, I wondered, imagining us hitting the spas and the nightclubs for a mom's long weekend out. Fun, but it would be a shame not to let the kids and our husbands ski together, I thought. In which case we'd have to bring our mother. The steaming pool quickly began to fill up with my imaginary entourage.

Somewhere in the promotional literature I was given, it explains that Tremblant gave up on competing with the Rockies for elevation, and decided to excel in amenities instead. From what we've experienced so far, they seem to have succeeded. Being here is a lot like what I imagine being on a cruise ship to be like: great food, luxurious facilities, and a wide assortment of activities to choose a la carte. I don't have much of a frame of reference for the skiing, except to observe that something keeps skiiers of all levels going back up the mountain for more, and I don't' think it's the poutine.

We wrapped up our second day with a soak in the bathtub-hot outdoor pool, and dinner in the Windingo dining room, all here at the Fairmont. I had a sumptuous pate de foie gras, accompanied by a chilled glass of muscat, french onion soup, and a cheese, leek and pecan stuffed portabello. Patrick had trout tartare (served on a disk of ice), seafood chowder, and an Asian-seasoned noodle dish with prawns and lobster. My ten-year-old astounded us all by asking to see the adult menu, and proceeding to order the half-lobster and beef filet. At such a moment, a parent is filled with equal measures of pride and alarm: pride for a growing child and a maturing palate, and alarm, because, holy crap, the lobster and beef filet?? That's one less cheap date at our table.

We are being spoiled, but no one need worry about us putting on airs. Just as my foie de gras was artfully presented, along with a tray of gourmet salts from which to choose, one of our party announced loudly and graphically that he needed to go to the bathroom, and for what specific purpose.

It's a bit hard to project sophistication after that.

À demain.

this post lives all by itself here

Mont-Tremblant: Day One

If you grow up with northern winters, and then you move down south, and you stay away a long, long time, you forget some things about snow. You forget that it has texture. You forget that it has a sound. You forget that it isn't just a cartoon blanket of white. Then one day, in February, you go north. You step off a plane, and onto the ground, and your feet remember the exact density and crunch of snow in deep winter. The kind that isn't going anywhere, anytime soon.

I almost started to cry. It was pure sensory recall, like the day the kids' snow pants arrived at our house in Little Rock, and my oldest son wore his around the house all afternoon. "My God," I said to Patrick, "do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That," I said, as my son walked by, the nylon of his pants rasping like cicadas as he moved. "That was the background noise of every winter of my childhood. I'd completely forgotten it."

Walking around Mont-Tremblant today with Dominic, our guide, was a full immersion in those kinds of details. He was trying to point out all the amazing, state-of-the-art facilities around us, and I kept looking at the ground and exclaiming, "Oh! It gets brown on the roads! And slushy! I totally forgot it does that!"

Meanwhile, the kids were frantically gathering armloads of the white stuff, hoarding it, even though I promised them it wouldn't melt overnight, like it usually does whenever it snows at home.

Gondola? Hot tubs? Slopes? Shops? Who cares about all that when you've got a powder chunk as big as your head just begging to be thrown at your brother?

But in between making blindingly obvious statements about the physical properties of frozen water crystals, ("It's so cold!" "It melts!"), we did get a good look around at our playground for the next few days, starting with the view from our room at the Fairmont, which overlooks several steaming outdoor heated pools and the beginners slope. Dominic walked us around the whole storybook-looking village, where we shopped for a few last minute additions to the cold weather gear we had to acquire for this trip. (By the way, outfitting five people for snow, from scratch, is no small investment. The timing made it possible to take advantage of post-Christmas markdowns, which helped a lot.)

We rode the cabriolet to the rental shop, and completed our ensembles. School starts at 9:35 sharp tomorrow.

To help build our strength up, we feasted on french cuisine at Hotel du Lac. Before I tell you how that was, let's get something out of the way. Someone rang me up a few months ago, and suggested that me and my family might like to come play in the snow for a few days as their guests. I admit, I am inclined to think positively toward them. In fact, after today, they rank somewhere between my mother and husband in my affections.

I enthusiastically agreed to come here and blog all about it. I'm not going to pretend to be unbiased. But I promise to be sincere. So believe me when I say that dinner was Fabulous. And I'm not just saying that because a HERD OF DEER dined peacefully on the snowy lakeshore right outside our window throughout the duration of our meal. I'm saying the food was so good, we forgot all about the deer after the soup course (the deer probably thought management was feeding us for their amusement).

Patrick had quinte de petoncles saisi minute, creme reduite chevre Cayer (scallops in goat cheese). I had Magret de canard roti, pomme de terre Juliette a la confiture de mangues (roast duck and potatoes in mango sauce). The kids had (wait for it) chicken nuggets, pizza and french fries. Sigh. But to their credit, the big boys stepped out on a limb and had a maple mousse for dessert. The presentation, even of the kids finger food, was gorgeous. Their plates had little phyllo baskets filled with crudities, and their soft drinks were garnished with fruit swizzles. We took two and half hours to eat four courses. And sat there calling the deer fat.

À demain.

this post lives all by itself here

Snow, Interrupted

That red word on the right-hand side? To you, it says "cancel." To us, it said, "Go to FAO Schwartz."

Can we roll with it, or what?

Quebec tomorrow, or bust. Literally. Schwartz wouldn't take our airline vouchers. If we spend another day in this city we will all have to take jobs as waiters.

this post lives all by itself here

Day One: New York City

I don't know what woke me up this morning at 5:52, after less than four hours sleep, but it wasn't my alarm, that's for damn sure. My shrieks of panic woke everyone else up very effectively, however. We were supposed to be pulling out of our driveway, headed for the airport at 6 a.m.

So much for brushing my teeth, let alone a shower.

Twenty frantic minutes later we were on the road, and a few hours after that, I got to hear my ten-year-old son announce to the entire passenger cabin from his window seat, "THERE'S SNOW DOWN THERE, EVERYWHERE!" That alone, was worth the hours shaved off my life expectancy by the stress of last night and this morning.

Everywhere down there must have been somewhere around Ohio, because it was another hour or so before we flew in past Lady Liberty to Newark, where there was no snow, anywhere. But then there was New York, everywhere.

It's been a while since we've done a big trip like this, but one thing we learned from our last cross-country trek is that it helps to consider the journey part of the main event. Rather than sprinting across airports to make precarious connections, we find it less stressful to slow down the pace, dial down expectations, and work within the limits of our children's tolerance for confinement.

We could have gotten to our final destination in a day if we had been willing to play hopscotch with airports all over the country, all day. We weren't. So we built a night in New York into our itinerary on our own dime. We took a non-stop flight and got here in time to have lunch at a diner, explore the American Museum of Natural History for the afternoon, and enjoy an early dinner and a full night's sleep before flying out in the morning, non-stop to Quebec. The museum is absolutely incredible. The boys soon forgot all about snow.

I can't wait for them to look out the airplane window tomorrow, and remember.

this post lives all by itself here

Notes on Ice

If you drove by our house the other day, you would have seen my three sons climbing the pecan trees in our front yard wearing their new long underwear and snowboots. In seventy five degree weather. They are just a little bit excited about us going to Mount Tremblant, Quebec this week, on a sponsored trip arranged by Blogher. So am I. Not just because it will be our first real family vacation in years, but because they've never seen more than a few inches of snow in their lives. To give you an idea, they get excited when the dog water freezes over. I cannot wait for them to make their first snow angels.

We fly to New York tomorrow for an overnight stop, and then onto Canada Sunday. I'll be blogging all about it. Hope you'll follow along with us!

this post lives all by itself here